Hearts Break Hard
by Foul Fountain of Flies
Summary: MitKo, MitRu. There are times when resolutions are not the only end of a story. For ivybluesummers and Pollux Unbound. One shot.


Hearts Break Hard

Disclaimer: I don't own SD boys, Inoue does. The events that follow are not included in the original plot but enjoy anyway.

Summary: MitKo, MitRu. There are times when resolutions are not the only end of a story. One shot.

Dedication: For ivybluesummers and Pollux Unbound. Here's my last ditch fic, enjoy.

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There's always that strange, one split moment in space where you can always see with your naked eyes the utterly impossible taking place. There's the brief period of incredulity, of faith shattering to pieces, before the overwhelming change occurs. And the worst part of it is the afterthought: that such breaking apart happened not despite the relationship's peaceful nature, but because of it. 

When Kiminobu Kogure watched Mitsui Hisashi cross the lawn that morning, the sky, he noted, didn't simply gray; in his eyes, it blackened until all around him seemed thoroughly cast in unknown darkness. But it was momentary, a similar scene from some second-rate horror movie he'd reluctantly seen years ago. A flash-out, like a short circuit that messed up the light bulb for half a while. And what's so remarkably weird about it is how cruelly real the event made itself seem to be, which cannot be in all logical senses. The world couldn't just black out unless for psychosomatic reasons. And that's when he learned that your greatest fears are a cheater, that they never really get too far away, because they simply haunt around the bend waiting to pounce on you at your most vulnerable.

"I've been wanting to tell you…" Mitsui had done walking over to Kogure and now he stood in full view of him, and Kogure rose without a single premonition in mind. "This has to end already."

The space around them reverted to its old normal hue. The imaginary dark vanished in thin air but Kogure did not, which he wished he would right at that instant where everything had to happen so fast and he had no idea how to stop it.

"I'd've thought you'd choose to do something about it. Not to end the whole thing." Kogure smiled ruefully. He was wrong to think that Mitsui would address their problems with a keener eye, more procedural practicality. To end everything now was oversimplifying the matter, of course, and escaping from the difficulties they both vowed to cross.

"You give me too much credit. I'm sorry, but I'm just tired." Mitsui muttered. There was an embarrassed look on his face, and Kogure hoped that it was suicidal remorse instead of merely just guilt, a passive defeat from a moral gamble. Walking away, he realized that his wishful thinking clearly didn't do him any good. Kogure then decided to let it all off his mind. Surely, three years of close contact with Mitsui could amount to nothing, could mean exactly as much as the dust that settles on the pavement every summer afternoon.

Nothing's that easy, however.

Mitsui Hisashi then turned to Rukawa Kaede. There wasn't any terrific catch here, except that Rukawa was the only person who'd fit the role. Their sudden attachment to each other was an open-shuttered room and neither made secret of the fact that they spent time together more than they should. Kogure went on with his usual business, accepting the new terms of the status quo with outward calmness. He would walk in the cafeteria in the same manner as he always did, eat his complete meal and stalk off a minute before the bell rings. The only thing missing was the scar-faced guy who often rested his arm on Kogure's shoulder. That arm now rested on another's shoulder, Kogure would think fugitively and assign no one the blame. On hard court, the change in the emotional atmosphere was hard to see; no tension rose to the surface except when Sakuragi went on short fuse and would by turns verbally and physically abuse Rukawa, at which Mitsui would come to the latter's rescue and resolve the issue with a dark glance at Sakuragi's direction. Kogure would raise his eyebrows a fraction and shake his head with a forgetful smile.

"You were never that protective toward me, Mitsui." He said one day as he washed his face on the sink. The tone he set was casual and harmless, a simple language of camaraderie that offered no ethical dilemma to Mitsui.

Mitsui smirked, gave every indication of disinterest in the conversation and strafed away wordlessly. It wasn't an argument he wanted to win, and Kogure learned there and then that people in love would rather lose just to demonstrate the nameless extent to which their love could reach. Kogure smiled again, and his smile was unaltered; "steady" was a word too weak for it. Perhaps careless would suit it better.

When graduation came, Kogure was quick to pay attention to the tidiness of what he felt. In a few hours, he'd be leaving all that behind, all of what he loved, he put his trust in, and even, if he wasn't too careful, the memory of Shohoku's humble beginnings, of which he was a significant part. When the ceremony was over, he walked down from the pulpit. He didn't receive honors as high as Akagi Takenori's but he was glad to exit with distinctions. He exchanged hugs with his classmates, some of his batch-mates, the teachers who made education seem a bright prospect for him, everyone who meant anything to him, everyone he doted on and learned to love with the exception of one person.

He met Mitsui in the courtyard, where, months ago, their separation was declared officially. Mitsui seemed in top form with his athletic shoulders meticulously traced by the silk toga he hadn't yet bothered to remove. He walked over to Kogure with a strong air of déjà vu and it was with pleasant surprise that Kogure didn't encounter the same blackness with which this familiar scene greeted him before. The sun was yellow bright, the sky even brighter in utter contrast to months ago. It would soon be apparent that it was Mitsui's intention to ambush him so.

"Something tells me you're happy to leave." Mitsui said with a slightly sarcastic accusatory note. Under ideal circumstances, Kogure would've found this amusing but for a last meeting, surely, this was too cold a good-bye?

"I'm sorry to give you that impression. It burdens me to bid all this good bye, in fact." Kogure replied in defense of himself as he vividly recalled Mitsui's expression on that fateful day, and realized instantly that none of it was retained by the lonesome one he wore now.

Mitsui took a deep breath, laboriously, and said, "Allow me to rephrase; I think it's time for you to know how indifferent you were and how much and hard I had to struggle with every heartbeat just to convince myself that you truly cared for me. Well, now, none of that matters anymore…" he trailed and his words fell like guillotine.

"You're the one who ended it, not me. I could've run after you trying to fix the mess if you didn't look so... so decided." Kogure protested. "Mitsui, I don't understand."

"I don't understand either. I don't understand why it took you so long to realize that you were shedding crocodile tears all the while, that the fabled loving Kogure was in fact an indifferent lover. Yeah, you bet neither of us understands." Mitsui almost blared. "You always used to ignore the fact that all I wanted was to be with you. You wouldn't hold my hand unless I did so first. You wouldn't call unless I made an earnest request of it, granted you even remembered that I wanted you to. I don't know, hahaha! I guess it's just my instinct to hold on blindly to people in an unrealistic hope of being loved in return, in equal measure. And it had gone on long enough to make an idiot out of me. Well, how was I supposed to know that you'd turn out to be a cold fish whose love life is second fiddle to everything else? So one day I just decided to pull the reins and take it into my own hands; I had to end it and that was that."

Kogure stared at Mitsui, open jawed. Something in his heart broke when he saw the bare honesty that lingered in his eyes. He looked wired, rapt with attention and not even vengeful but on the verge of being pitied for good reasons. Kogure tried to think of what to say, to console or to complement Mitsui's words, he didn't know exactly. So much that was regrettably true had been laid in full light now, and he didn't know what to do about it. The story he started was not the story he ended; it had unraveled into another skein, viewed from another angle and what it revealed is him as the antagonist. His head reeled in addition to his mounting distress. In the end, all he could really say is,

"Yes, I was indifferent." Kogure let his shoulders fall down but didn't look away. The overwhelming truth homed on him all at once and he was no less floored.

"Of course you were. It's probably the most important thing you should know at the present except for I love you. I still do." Mitsui said in his trademark straightforward way. Kogure's eyes narrowed and the smile he attempted didn't materialize in his face. Whatever purpose did that confession of Mitsui's serve anyway?

"Rukawa is—"

"Oh, that." Mitsui pre-empted. "Don't worry, if I'm in the least worried about anyone's well-being, it's yours. I'm happy with Rukawa, and he with me. What should be the problem? Perhaps you think I'm trying to charm you off again. Well, screw that. I'm done and over with you."

Kogure emitted a low-pitched laugh. This wasn't the retort he expected. "You never fail to crack me up, Mitsui."

"Perhaps, and I shall take that as a compliment. I've stated my case so I guess we're quits. If we try to get back together now, it may wind up as a worse disaster than what we used to have. I'm not going back to you anymore, not for all the world." Mitsui smirked as he met Kogure's gaze for the last time. "That day when I ended it with you? I think it's only fair to let you know that the world darkened for me, not for you." Mitsui finished and the expression he assumed was hard to read, maybe because of the intensity of the sunlight that coursed through between them. At any rate, Kogure was sure he saw his former lover wink as he wheeled. Mitsui walked away, leaving no room for further speech or any warm parting words. He seemed content with the knowledge he had bequeathed on Kogure and somehow, somehow Kogure knew that the issue had been ultimately laid to rest, so was their past, the love they'd known and the tales they made together. Was it relief he felt for this? Or was it mingled with bitterness? Or was there anything at all to feel?

Alone in the same fateful spot, Kogure sighed and smiled his ever so indifferent smile. The time for atonement was finally past. It had gone as quietly as it had come; it was so fleeting and light he almost couldn't tell if it was ever there. It's funny how love easily twists illusion and vice versa, he realized.

END


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